


Together Burning Bright

by Mikey_is_a_zombie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Deaf Clint Barton, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, They like Punk Rock because Clint made a Ramones reference in the comics and I said so, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikey_is_a_zombie/pseuds/Mikey_is_a_zombie
Summary: The last time Clint had seen his teenage crush had been in Highschool. Seven years later he runs into Buckys best friend, Steve, in a hospital and falling from rooftops seems to have upsides after all.





	1. Seven years ago

**Author's Note:**

> Hay guys, I am back with the new fanfiction I have promised! I think it is a lot better than my writing challenge because I have only worked on it when I was really in the mood for it and I was really motivated to write this so, yeah… I hope you like it!  
> The title is from the song Together Burning Bright by The Used beause I can´t seem to think of something else and I have listened to this song while writing the majority of this :)  
> It is not Beta-ed and if someone would like to be my beta Reader I beg you, please send me a messeage! My first language isn´t english so I probably use weird phrases or spell things wrong. 
> 
> I am not sure how this turned out as long, but well, have fun with the first chapter!

Clint didn't follow up on what was going on in the tiny diner, he had sat down in the corner furthest away from anything else with an old newspaper he had gotten out of the bin outside and switched his hearing aids off to make the world fade in the background completely as he looked through it for jobs.  
Prom would be in two days. It was hard to believe he could actually leave his old school behind after all these years in which he had been sitting around, wasting his time in a room full of people he never talked to unless they talked to him - a very rare occasion - and having to concentrate every second to be able to understand what the teachers said because they wouldn't let him sit up front. That was where their favourites sat. The boy with his dirty clothes and torn second hand books didn't deserve to sit in the front row. It didn't matter whether he was deaf and couldn't understand a word the teacher said or not.  
After all this time he was actually free! 

Sure, Clint could have quit school, but that wouldn't have made it easier for him. He would have even less of a perspective without a high school certificate than with his fairly average grades. It wouldn't be easy to support himself, he didn't even try to get any 'American Dream Illusions' in which he made a lot of money and sat at the pool of his mansion with a cocktail in his right and models all around him after a lot of hard work. Clint would get the hard work, but not an amount of money he never could even think about spending. Good things didn't happen, and if they did, they didn't happen to Clint.  
It was not like he was a pessimist, his life just had been a train wreck since he could think; he had an abusive father that beat him up so hard he even got to keep a souvenir for the rest of his life, little machines tucked behind his ears, they had the colour of his skin so nobody would notice and ask questions. Just a little while later his parents died and left Clint and his brother to get handed from foster home to foster home until Barney broke out of the system and became a criminal and Clint was old enough to live on his own, getting just enough money to get by. To top it off he had to live through school, the kids didn't like him and he got bullied quite a bit until a Russian girl showed up out of nowhere and took him under her wing. 

Clint smiled a little as a warm feeling spread in his chest at the memory of the very first time they met and Natasha had been his best friend ever since. She had helped him to keep his grades up as well as she could, lend him money every now and then if he needed it and kept the assholes away. He loved her like the big, protective sister he never had, even though she was a year younger than him. 

After he arrived Clint was able to go through the newspaper for about twenty minutes, until he noticed someone approach him.  
When he looked up James Barnes was standing right in front of his table, he wore a grin that was as dashing as always, winking at Clint as he made eye contact.  
Clint didn't really know what to do, except of smiling back a little awkward and switching his hearing aids back on, at the same time he pulled the alibi headphones - the best excuse why he didn't hear people who tried to talk to him when he had his hearing aids switched off - out of his ears. He had been having a crush on Barnes since the other boy had transferred to his school about two and a half years ago, sometimes more sometimes less, but always a nagging thought in the back of his head how James' lips would feel on his. 

"Hi there," James grinned at him and Clint could swear that he knew exactly how good he looked with his perfectly styled hair, the beautiful smile of him and this look in his eyes. "Clint, isn't it? May I sit with you?" 

Clint smiled a little, nodding. "Sure." 

"How come you're here all alone? We're done with school, you should be celebrating with your friends instead of-" James looked at the newspaper with the job offers Clint had marked a little irritated, "thinking of the future just yet." 

"Yeah I should" Clint shrugged a little, his thoughts racing between how long he could stare at James' lips to help him understand him a little better with all those background noises and what to answer to explain why he was alone without sounding like the loser he was. Natasha had been going on a date and she wanted to bolt as soon as she could to meet him at the diner originally, but her date hadn't been as annoying as she thought so she had texted Clint, telling him it would take longer than intended. Every other person would have called another friend to ask them to meet them at the diner. Not Clint. His only friend was Nat, so who was he supposed to call? 

"So.. do you look forward to prom? Have a date?" James asks, grinning over at Clint, leaning over the table just slightly, bracing his forearms on it to support his upper body.

"I don't- well, have you ever seen me at prom?" Clint didn't quite know how to tell him that he didn't go, only losers would skip this party - especially because it would be the last prom they would attend ever, "Nat, my friend, and I have this tradition. We have sleepovers and marathon movies or series we like..." He smiled thinking about the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings marathon last year, whenever Clint had slept in Natasha had kicked him, angrily eating chips and staring at him. It had been hilarious. "How about you?" 

"I love dancing, sometimes, with the right person, I enjoy traditional dancing, too, so yeah, I'm looking forward to it. But I don't have a date. I'll have to find someone there I guess..." James smile was just a little different from before and Clint wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't paid as much attention before. 

"You don't? Didn't you ask someone? Or anyone ask you? You're so..." Popular? Pretty? Funny? Cute? Nice? Why didn't Clint ever think about how he was going to end his sentences before actually speaking out loud? 

"Yeah, I know what you mean, I've been asked a couple of times but I wanted to ask someone out but they.... had plans." James' smile turned a little sad now and he shrugged, sounding like he wanted to wave it off rather than get deeper into that topic "I didn't really expect them to say yes. But hey, I'll find someone tomorrow, today is about celebrating! My friends and I have a table over there, do you want to join us? I don't want you to be alone and who knows when we meet again - hell, if we meet again!" He emphasised the 'if' but Clint was too busy to think about the request to move to the table with James and his friends to get the implication. 

Clint touched his hearing aids subconsciously, he knew it would be difficult for him to follow the conversation if the group held a few conversations at once, which was pretty likely. But he also wanted to go with James, he had never talked to him longer than five minutes and if he didn't use this chance he probably would never.  
"Sure!" Clint’s mouth ran before he was even done considering. 

"Awesome!" James beamed, "Do you want something else?" He pointed to the empty cup in front of Clint, "It's on me!" 

Even though Clint tried to reject the offer James insisted, telling him to go ahead to the table his other friends sat on while he would get their coffees.  
As it turned out, there was four people chatting and laughing together on the table James had pointed him to; 

First of all, Steve Rogers, James' best friend, he was a scrawny kid who kept picking fights with assholes twice his size if they said offensive things or picked on other kids. James had made friends with him instantly when he transferred to their school, building a similar relationship with Steve like Clint and Natasha had, means that James saved Steve whenever he was getting his ass kicked again. Clint liked him, they had been spending their breaks together when they were younger, he didn't know why or when they had started to drift apart and felt sorry about it suddenly.  
Then there was Tony Stark, he was a genius and could have taken his finals years ago, but he chose to stay in school with his friends. He barely attended any classes but still had top results.  
The other two, Thor Odinson and Sam Wilson, Clint didn't know too much of except of that they were friends with James, Steve and Tony. 

Steve waved excitedly when he saw Clint walking over, "Hi Clint! So, he asked? And you said yes? I told him so! Come, sit down!" Before Clint could even ask why Steve was so excited about James asking him to sit with them, he was dragged into the booth next to Steve. 

"Hi everyone..." He smiled awkwardly, not sure whether this was such a good idea after all, but Steve introduced him to the other guys on the table and started an easy conversation about their grades and plans in the future. Clint didn't talk much or caught even half of the things when the boys started to talk over each other, but he enjoyed being welcomed in the group.  
James came back with two big cups a few minutes later, smiling at Clint and asking him whether his friends behaved or if he had to slap them up their heads while sitting down next to him, handing Clint the coffee.  
"Thanks so much, you didn't have to... And they were-" 

"We were awesome, like always!" Tony interrupted him jokingly.  
The evening went on light heartedly, many jokes were made, quite a few by Clint who could understand more of the conversation than he had originally guessed. Until James stood up. 

"I need a smoke!" He declared, already walking towards the door, and suddenly Clint felt horribly lost without the warmth of James' body on his side - god, this sounded way too needy, even to himself! It wasn't like he didn't like the others, Thor and Sam had turned out to be awesome, but he would rather have James there with them. Shame that Clint didn't smoke so he had no excuse to follow him.  
"Anybody wanna come?" James grinned, as if he had read Clint’s mind, "Clint?" 

"Yeah! I'm on my w-" just as Clint tried to jump up, he got caught in the leg of the table and almost fell, catching himself in the last second. Smooth Barton, Clint thought bitterly as red flared up in his cheeks due to James' amused smirk, Smooth like a fucking gravel path... 

"Are you okay?" James asked when Clint had caught up to him, his eyes still expressing amusement. But Clint appreciated his efforts not to laugh out loud. 

"Yeah, I'm good... I tend to think faster than my body can move..."  
As they walked out of the diner and towards a back-alley James put an arm around his shoulders, to be able to catch him if he fell again, the dark-haired man had claimed with a wink before he could even ask.  
"And you're not gonna murder me, right?" Clint attempted to joke as James led him further down the dark alley, past the back door of the diner. James jumped up on the dumpster, smirking at him.

"You're way too pretty to be killed." He explained as if he had actually considered it and Clint just stared at him, his expression disbelieving before James started to laugh. "Jokes aside, I'm just not too keen on getting caught smoking. Not old enough and stuff, my sister would kill me if she found out I didn't stop!" 

Clint chuckled a little, how had he even thought about this whole good-looking serial killer thing? Natasha had probably made him watch too many horror movies with her. He relaxed against the wall at the end of the alley, watching as James lit his cigarette. It was a bad habit, but hell if James didn't make it look hot! He held the cigarette between his lips, the corner of his mouth tilted upwards a little, still smiling about what he had said previously-  
Clint’s thoughts about how good the other one looked in the meagre light of the street lights stopped, going back over what James had said. He blushed furiously. 

"Did you just- did you just flirt with me?" Clint blurted out, wishing he would think about what he said once in a while for the second time this evening. 

"Depends." James hummed calmly, exhaling the smoke in a long breath. 

"Depends on what?" James seemed like he played a game with Clint and Clint definitely didn't feel like playing games right now! He just wanted to know what the hell was going on! 

"Isn't it obvious?" It was easy to tell that James smirked while speaking, apparently enjoying Clint’s confusion, "Depends whether you'd be flirting back, doll.”

The blond one froze - how could he not flirt back when James looked at him like this? His heart raced, and he couldn't think of something to say.  
"Y-yeah" Clint choked out, staring as James's expression changed from the questioning look it changed to when he hadn't answered for too long to an unbelievably sexy smirk. 

The next thing Clint knew that Bucky slid off the dumpster, flicked what was left of his cigarette away and overcame the little distance between them until he stood right in front of him, James' hand on his cheek.  
"Are you sure? One word and I'll back off. Your choice." 

Clint was so sick of this little game! Without thinking about he leaned in until their lips touched and he felt James smile as he moved just a little bit closer, bracing his right arm against the wall behind Clint, his hand still resting on his jaw, and started to move his lips slowly as if he didn't want to startle the blond one. Clint sighted in the soft kiss happily, this was so much better than in his dreams. Mostly because it was true, he reached up to run his hand through James' hair, he smelled like smoke and coffee and something entirely different Clint couldn't quite place, maybe his aftershave he thought before deciding to not think about things like that now, but rather let himself lost in the moment. 

When James pulled back both of them smiled and Clint felt like he was high. He didn't really want to let the other one go but well, they had to breath after all and the group in the diner waited for them to return from the cigarette break which Clint suspected was never planned as a cigarette break entirely. 

"God, Clint, you have no idea how lo- how glad I am that I met you earlier!" James smiled between two kisses on his temple, and his and slipped from Clint cheek in his hair to tilt his head up a little, going for a kiss again.

To be fair, Clint really wanted that kiss, but he decided to be the responsible for once: "James- stop..." the dark-haired man pulled back instantly, looking at Clint questioning.  
"Don't look at me like a beaten puppy!" He giggled, kissing the other one again, but before he James could deepen the kiss Clint used the last bit of self-control he had left to pull back, "I'd love to keep doing that but... what about the others? You wanted to celebrate with your friends and instead we're making out in a shady street and it's awesome but I feel kinda guilty about it." 

"I'm pretty sure at least Steve knows what we're up to. And Tony, hell, he won't shut up about this for weeks!" James groaned, looking like he didn't want to talk about Tony at the moment but rather go back to making out as if their lives depended on it, "But no worries, doll. I'll see them tomorrow evening, and then we will be able to celebrate all we want. I won't see you on the other hand which means I have my priorities for tonight straight! As long as my priorities are up for it of course." 

"Fuck yeah..." 

-

It was only when they wanted to meet the others and found the diner closed that they realised how long they had spent making out and Clint couldn't hold back a laugh when James checked his phone, confused why his friends hadn't called when they went home - he was supposed to give Steve a ride but apparently Tony had driven him home.  
Slowly they walked across the parking lot, James had his arm across Clint’s shoulders again and Clint had slung his arm around James hips and neither of them really wanted to let go of each other but both of them knew that they had to get up too early in the morning to go to the graduation ceremony to stay up much longer so they stopped in front of James' motorcycle. 

"I could give you a ride now that Steve's gone with Tony? If you want you can have my helmet." James offered but Clint shook his head. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. 

"No, I don't want you to drive without helmet because of me. I live just around the corner, I'll walk. Be safe, yeah?" 

"Of cause. I'll see you around, doll. Be safe yourself." James kissed him again before pulling a cloth over his mouth and nose and goggles over his eyes to protect his face from wind and drive off, leaving Clint waving after him with a dopey grin and flushed cheeks and the belief that they would see each other soon.

And as much as I would love to write that they did, it would be a lie. Because before they met again Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes died on a battlefield far away from home.


	2. The Serious Mission of Supporting Your Caffeine Addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hay guys, sorry it took so long to get the second chapter up, a lot of stuff has happened in the last month including exams and a Christmas Market we had to participate in which made it hard to concentrate on writing.  
> Now that this is behind me however, i have sat down and finished the second chapter, I hope you like it!  
> Have Fun!

Cautiously he glanced down the hallway. Left? Clear. Right? Clear. This would be the best opportunity to sneak out Clint would get!  
And with sneaking out Clint meant hobbling on his crutches in nothing but a hospital gown and a single shoe on his right foot towards the elevator as fast as he could while desperately trying to pull the infusion holder, that carried a bag of painkillers at the moment, along with him without pulling the cannula out of the back of his hand accidentally.

When Clint failed his mission, it didn't even surprise him, the nurses basically patrolled on the hospital hallways and Clint was sure that they only did to send him back to bed when he tried to escape to the bistro downstairs once again. It was not like they had places to go or things to do. No. Their lives were centred around annoying him.  
Yes, Clint was aware how abstract this sounded but he was convinced of his theory and wouldn’t change his mind if nobody proved him wrong.

What did surprise Clint was the fact that he was not stopped by a nurse but rather by his own clumsiness, which he should have taken into account looking back on it.  
About three paces from the door of his room he lost one of his crutches as he tried to pull the infusion holder after him, and instead of catching the first crutch like he had planned the other one fell on the ground, too and there was nothing Clint could do except of staring at the ground helplessly and balancing on his not injured foot, holding onto the wall as well as he could so he wouldn't fall over.  
"Aww, crutches, no..."  
And it wasn't like things like this situation never happened - he had accepted that his life was one single train wreck long ago.

"Wait, I'll help you!" A soldier, still in his army clothing and combat boots, carrying a huge backpack jogged towards him, "Here you go!" The guy smiled at him, holding the crutches out to Clint.

"Thanks, man." Clint decided that if either Natasha or Kate would ever know that a hot soldier had saved him from nagging nurses like in those meet-cute romcoms Kate loved to watch - and Natasha backed her up with in voting for the weekly movie night because they always allied against him - he had to kill them first and then himself because they would never let him forget about it. And then they'd be stuck in hell together. Great. Maybe he should just choose less radical action and move abroad with a new name. Clint had a whole list of new names in his head, just in case. His favourite was Hector Davis at the moment.  
"Now I have to kiss you for saving me from my distress, isn't that kind of the law?" Clint joked.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that." The soldier answered with a polite and a little awkward smile that seemed all too familiar to Clint. 

"At least I got my Bi-Fi thing right." Clint shrugged in response, "Where are you going anyways? I feel like you're lost." And with 'I feel like' Clint meant 'I know' because the hospital was split in two parts: the north-east wing in which he and the other guy stood right now was the normal hospital businesses, but the South wing was where they sent soldiers when they needed little medical attention but were still in surveillance - and if this guy didn't just jump out of a plain and rushed here to see one of his army buddies Clint would insist to be called Clinton for the rest of his life and he hated this name. Seriously, how much did his parents hate him? What had he done just a few minutes after his birth to piss them off that much?

"Yeah, probably. I'm looking for my friend? He's been in the army? I´ve been told there is a complete wing for soldiers here but I seem to be in the wrong place…"

"If you take care of my infusion holder and tell the angry nurses that you won’t let me do something stupid and I can show you how to get to the military wing." The soldier raised one eyebrow pointedly, even though his grin gave away that he didn't mean it.

"Well, well. Apparently, I'm helping a criminal here?" He grinned, not seeming entirely opposed by Clint's offer.

"The staff knows me, I'm here quite often. And to be honest I am a nightmare. But what the hell? They don't allow me enough coffee, so what am I supposed to do except of sneaking downstairs?" Clint shrugs. The nurses were strict on their two cups a day policy and he had given in to his caffeine addiction long ago - if it was so bad, why had coffee to be so good then? It was still healthier than alcohol or smoking Clint supposed so he didn't really try to fight it.  
It was just after justifying his caffeine consumption to himself that he noticed the army guy staring at him mildly confused.  
"I should probably elaborate on why I am here often. I am quite prone to accidents. Nothing really illegal. Not much anyways." He winked.

The guy nodded slowly "Okay... so shall we? I have-" he checked the time on one of the many clocks in the hospital hallway, before continuing his sentence, sounding a little frustrated "a little bit longer than one and a half hours. Maybe we can swing by the bistro downstairs to get you a coffee?"

"I see, we'll be good friends for the next one and a half hours, army guy!" Clint beamed, already starting to move - hobble - towards the elevator in anticipation of the coffee, he could almost hear it calling him.

"My name is Steve actually," the guy, Steve, offered while trying to get a grip on Clint’s infusion holder and move it after him fast enough to prevent Clint from yanking the cannula out, "Steve Rogers."

Abruptly Clint came to a halt again, staring at Steve over his shoulder, intensely and with furrowed brows.  
"You've gotta be kidding me. Clint? Barton? Me?" Congratulation, you have achieved the vocabulary and grammar skills of a three-year-old, Clint almost rolled his eyes at himself, but his loss of words was justified - this couldn't be the Steve Rogers he knew from his High School, this Steve Rogers had been fairly small and scrawny, the Steve Rogers that stood in front of him on the other hand looked like he could single handedly bench press a motorcycle! But how many Steve Rogers' were there that were so kind, it almost hurt and a little awkward?

"Clint? No way! We haven't seen each other since we bumped into each other in the supermarket a few days after we finished school!" Steve looked geniounly excited and as if he was torn between hugging Clint and not hugging him and due to the state his body was in currently and he was a little relieved Steve decided to not hug him, hugs were awesome, but Clint couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky he had been to be able to avoid accidentally being crushed to death by an oversized Golden Retriever - yes, Steve's character hadn't changed apparently - as they agreed on discussing their last few years on a cup of coffee in the bistro downstairs.

"So, how have you been Clint?" Steve asked him as they waited for their order - a coffee for Clint and a tea for Steve - to arrive after a journey that probably wasn't as long as Clint felt it had been. It had been an adventurous quest filled with sceptical nurses and a door he could only stare at and hope it would open up by itself magically. Or be opened by Steve. It had been opened by Steve. Clint decided that he would be more cautious when he played frisbee by himself on the roof the next time. On second thought he should stop thas completely, it never turned out good - on third thought Clint wondered why he had thought this was a good idea in the first place.

"Good, really. It's been chaotic and confusing but good. I was working at a circus and god damn - I was good!" Clint laughed, thinking about how absurd that had to sound to Steve without knowing the story behind it. 

Like almost anything in his life it had been kind of an accident.  
He had been pestering Natasha to visit the circus with him, going alone wouldn't be half as fun and when he was truly excited about something he wouldn't shut up about it anyways so it was a win-win situation. For Clint, not for Natasha who had to put up with him talking about nothing else anymore, always stressing the point that it advertised with an archer as well as dancers - "like yourself, Nat!", flattering his friend always worked even if she punched him for it - and after days of him pushing leaflets from the Circus underneath her door or through open windows and annoying his friend to death she had actually agreed, but not without rolling her eyes and calling him a toddler for both, wanting to see the circus and his methods to get her to come with him.  
And before Clint knew he showed the archer he had seen in the show how she could aim a little more efficient and Natasha talked to the acrobats, showing off a little of her own, quite impressive, dance skills. Nine days later he and Natasha sat in a beat-up Volkswagen with Kate, the archer, looking forward to a life of adventure. 

"But now I've settled down and work in a primary school with deaf and mute kids and at an archery range." As soon as the kids had found out he was an archer Clint had been forced to offer a children's class because all of them were suddenly keen on becoming the next Robin Hood. Clint smiled proudly, he loved those little humans in progress.

Steve looked impressed: "You really seem to enjoy teaching?" Clint didn't think Steve had expected him to live a functional life like that, but who could blame him, if it wasn't for Natasha and Kate he probably wouldn't. 

"I'm not actually a teacher, I come in three days a week and help the kids with problems they encounter due to their disability. I was I their place when I was young " Clint turned his head a little and tapped his finger against the large, bright purple box behind his ear, "they are great kids and I know that most teachers don't respect children like they should, so I am there to speak for them if the teachers ignore special needs. For example when they talk too silent, or won't let them translate for one another. Once a week we have two lessons to just chat. I am supposed to teach them sign language but most of them already sign better than they write so we just hang out." He beamed when talking about his job and Steve nodded along, appeareantly very interested in what Clint told him.  
The pride grew in Clint, he may have been a human disaster this was the only thing he really got right, the only reason he was proud of himself sometimes. Sure, Clint always acted confident and loud and bragged about his archery skills, but sometimes he was the silent teenager again, the abandoned boy who didn't want anything other than people acknowledging him. Natasha and Kate caught him sulking sometimes and both of them would not put up with it - they would drag him out of his apartment, Kate to the archery range and Natasha to eat something other than pizza, and something to an animal shelter to walk the dogs. They were everything he could wish for.

At the part where Clint brought attention to his own aids, Steve wanted to ask how long he had been deaf. When they had been in school he never saw Clint wearing hearing aids, and even though he hadn't been responding from time to time Steve always thought it was because Clint had his head in the clouds instead of paying attention to reality. But instead of asking about the aids he asked wether there were so many kids who needed his help, not sure wether Clints own deafness was a topic that was too touchy for him.

"Well, in the beginning it was only two kids but now that the parents hear that I work there they try to get their children in the school I work in so they have an adult who can actually understand them and can help if they can't." Clint laughed a little bit when he called himself an adult even though it was tecnicially true, it didn't feel like it was. "But enough of my tales as a fighter for the innocent! You- you! How? No offense but the last time I saw you, you were-" due to a lack of words Clint rose simply his left hand so Steve could see how his thumb and index finger almost touched "tiny!" 

Steve chuckled "No offense taken. You're not the only one who is knocked out of his socks by my... me." Okay, on second thought Clint could have known that he wasn't the only one who noticed this unbelievable transformation of Steve, the rest of the world wasn't blind. God, he had many second thoughts today...  
"The army. That's what happened to me, it was a hard piece of work, but I made it work..." suddenly the excitement that had shone in Steve's eyes just a second ago was overshadowed by something different, something darker. He could only see it for a few seconds, but Clint could have sworn it was guilt "And Bucky did it, too..." Steve sounded pained, and from his use of a particular name he seemed to expect Clint to know this guy, but the name didn't ring a bell... "He's the one I'm here for... his a- he's been injured a few days back." 

Before Clint showed Steve to the military wing they exchanged phone numbers to stay in touch this time even though Steve planned to stay in town and take care of his friend, "maybe work as an artist," Steve had said, "maybe as an illustrator."  
Clint could see that. More so Clint could see Steve have his own exhibition, he had been a great painter in school and Clint was sure that he had only gotten better over the last few years. 

When he was back in his room the first thing he did was texting Natasha about who he met, leaving out the specific details how they met intentionally.


	3. Talking To Yourself In The Middle Of A Bistro Opposite Of A Hot Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys, after like three month I am back from the dead and guess what, I´ve even brought a new chapter!   
> I´m sorry that it took so long again, but I haven´t really been happy with anything I´ve written lately so I haven´t felt comfortable uploading anything really, but well, I´ve deemed it good enough now so here it is, have fun reading :)

"And don't you talk back at the doctors again!" Kate shouted after Clint as he made his way from the car park towards the hospital as fast as his crutches allowed him to because he was pretty sure if he took his time Kate would think better out it and actually make him promise instead of just warning him. 

"Can I get away with acting as if I didn't hear you?" He yelled over his shoulder. Clint almost felt Kate rolling her eyes at him from behind her sunglasses before taking off, leaving him to his own devices.   
Clint was tired of check-ups and hospitals, when they had been in the circus they had been treating themselves most of the time, so why wouldn't Natasha just leave him alone with going to the doctor's? Sighting he limped towards the reception, signing himself in and found himself surprised as he was led in one of the rooms after waiting only a few minutes even though Kate had dropped him off a little too early because she had 'matters to attend to'.   
Whatever this meant. 

As Clint waited, he heaved himself on the padded bench every of the doctor’s rooms were equipped with to minimise the risk of falling over, and pulled out his phone to text Natasha that he was already in. He didn't have to wait too long before the door opened and the doctor stepped in.

"Hello, Clint." Doctor Bruce Banner started as he entered the room, Clint’s file in his hand. Banner was a soft-spoken man about the same age as Clint himself, but the stress of the hospital had made him age fast, his dark hair already going grey - Bruce had claimed that at least half of his grey hair was due to Clint not following the nurses orders and every time Clint did something stupid and messed up his pre-existing injuries even more the wrinkles on his forehead deepened because he had to frown at Clint disapprovingly.   
"If you followed your instructions, you'll be out of here in ten minutes. But knowing you, I assume you didn't." He sighted, finally looking away from the file and at Clint. 

"No, I was good this time." He grinned, holding up the purple plastic splint that he wore over two pairs of equally purple socks. To be honest, if it was up to himself Clint would have abandoned the crutches two days after he was dismissed from the hospital, but Kate and Natasha had been having him under close surveillance ever since so he dutifully used them.   
If he walked at all that meant.  
The only good thing about the situation was that he wasn't allowed to move around too much, so he mostly had his friends do all the chores he wasn't allowed to do and sometimes - if he played his cards right - he even could coax Natasha into bringing him coffee.  
"I Didn't even go to work in the last two weeks. You have no idea how much of glaring Natasha had to do and how much Katie yelled at me to keep me in this fucking apartment." Clint sighted, he really missed the kids and it had been heart breaking when Kate had brought in a Get Well Soon card that had been made by the hand of primary schoolers along with his other mail one day. 

"Good, they're getting you under control." Bruce smiled, scribbling something down in his file, sending him off to get another X-ray, just to completely sure and if Clint was honest with himself he saw where the distrust came from so he went without putting up much of a fight.  
When the results came back Banner nodded, looking satisfied with the result.  
"In a week you should slowly start walk a little bit more and in three weeks you should occasionally try to walk without crutches. But I'll see you before that and give you a table with the information you need. How does Check-up in two weeks sound?" 

They made the next appointment and Clint went to the entrance hall to hand over the little piece of paper Bruce had given him to the receptionist before going on to the Bistro of the hospital to wait for Kate to text him that she was done and would come and pick him up again. 

-

It didn't take long for Clint to grow bored with the games on his phone - Candy Crush was horrible, he didn't really know why he hadn't deleted it yet, and in Plants VS Zombies Natasha had defeated Dr. Zomboss for Clint just yesterday so after the zen garden was all watered and he had played music for all the plants there wasn't much left to do which meant Clint became restless. 

He shifted on his chair, fidgeted with his coffee cup and glanced to the clock above the counter every thirty seconds.   
It had taken Clint ages to train his patience even on the shooting range to make sure he aimed properly and had his breathing right before he let go of the bowstring instead of just blindly shooting, and hoping for the best but all this training didn’t help him right now with neither bow nor target anywhere nearby. Clint really wished he could shoot again, not being allowed to walk around had implied no archery, that had been made clear by Natasha within the first ten minutes of being back at home, and everything in Clint just itched to get back to the range and let off some steam.

Clint took a sip of his coffee, more to busy himself than anything else really, and let his eyes wander over the other people at the tables. Most of them were patients with family members or friend, grateful to get out of their room and have someone to update them on what was going on outside of the hospital walls, there was even a dog laying under one of the tables outside, enjoying how an elderly lady pet its head.   
Nothing out of the ordinary, no one he knew from previous visits, no excuse to go over to one of the tables and talk to someone. Clint stared at the dog yearningly before he tore his eyes of the animal and unlocked his phone again even though he was painfully aware that he neither had new notifications - like Kate texting him that she was outside the hospital, he thought longingly - nor any new Emails. 

Clint shoved his phone back in his pocket, frustrated as he had only managed to pass about two painfully slow minutes with his phone, reading over some Emails he had read twice already.

-

Apparently there was a God. Just twenty minutes later, when Clint was about to die of boredom, a man walked in. This alone wasn’t any special, quite a few people had entered or left the bistro since he had arrived, but the man was absolutely stunning! He was about as high as Clint and built broad and muscular and his brown, shaggy hair that was just short of brushing his shoulders. As far as Clint tell from his profile the left sleeve of his shirt was pinned up high on his left arm but the man didn’t seem to be self-conscious about it, maybe vigilant if anything, keeping it close to his body. Everything about him screamed vet. To make it short, Clint stared. Sneaky enough that the other man didn't notice, or at least he didn’t look back at Clint, but he felt a little embarrassed when he tore his eyes away from Hot Guy nevertheless.   
Clint passed the next five minutes looking at the man out of the corner of his eyes while sipping his coffee inconspicuous and the man was still alone on his table, staring out of the window and at nothing, his expression blank. 

But at least the guy seemed to get out of his room more often, the waitress, Sharon as Clint had learned just a few weeks ago, struck up a friendly conversation as soon as she saw him and arrived at his table, asking how he was. The man just shrugged and answered quietly with a small and polite smile. Sharon placed a careful hand on his shoulder and said something equally quiet that Clint didn't catch. Mostly because he didn't want to. He could tell whatever they said wasn't for anyone to be overheard and using his lip reading to eavesdrop on people wasn’t fair on them so he turned away until he was sure that Sharon was gone again.  
Clint used his time to think about the way the man had smiled, it was an odd cross between familiar and just wrong that he couldn't quite place. Clint bit his lip, staring at his mug but he just couldn’t make out the familiar part. He hated this vaguely familiar feeling, the feeling of the answer to a question just out of reach. 

When he looked over again the man picked at a scone half heartedly and his scowl reminded Clint a little too much of himself when Kate made him eat anything else than pizza on his bad days. He finally pushed the plate with the half-eaten scone away and shot a frustrated look at it before he stared past Cint and out of the window again. The only word that came to Clint’s mind was lonely, maybe sad, but definitely lonely. He thought about going over, keeping the guy company for some time, maybe he would find out why this guy seemed so goddamn familiar.

It took him a few more minutes to try to come up with a good excuse to talk to the man across the room before he decided to just fuck it because he knew how much he would procrastinate talking to the man if he would overthink the conversation. Clint slid out of his seat, abandoning his half empty cup in order to not make an idiot out of himself in front of a hot guy by tripping over his own feet and spilling it all over himself - or worse, spilling it all over him! - and made his way over to him as gracefully as he could manage with crutches.   
Hot Guy, which might have not been the best nickname, but it was the first one to come to Clint’s mind and definitely better than calling him just `the guy´ or `dude´ in his head, was eyeing him warily, his body shifting subtly in a more defensive pose as he came closer and finally slid into the seat opposite of him, smiling broadly.

"Hi." He said, careful to keep his voice conversational. Hot Guy just continued to watch Clint, keeping his face blank and staring back with guarded eyes. It was more than obvious that the man didn't want to talk to Clint, but when had people being annoyed with him ever stopped him from talking to them?  
"I'm Clint! Do I know you?" He continued, picking up the hint of familiarity he had felt earlier to start a conversation, but he didn't give Hot Guy time to answer before he kept talking lightly, "I feel like I may have thrown something at you once accidentally, might have been a snowball? I don't know why, you just give me this kinda 'you're a moron and I am hot dude and now I have snow in my face thanks to you, never talk to me again' vibe" Clint squinted, that couldn't have been it, could it? 

The man opposite of him now seemed somewhere between looking for the best angle to punch Clint in the face and run and genuinely interested in what else his desperate mind would make up to safe this rather one-sided conversation.  
"It's happened before, you know. That's why I ask. I'd even offer you to throw a snowball at me if that's the reason you don't want to talk to me but-" He gestured towards the window front behind him and the mild spring sunshine on the other side of the glass, "it'll be kinda hard to get snow now except if we find an indoors ski place somewhere, which is rather unlikely in my opinion, and oh God please safe me from my own rambling already I'm making an idiot out of myself." Clint pleaded, seriously considering to just spontaneously combust due to his own awkwardness, but halfway through his monologue Hot Guys right eyebrow rose and there seemed something like amusement to flicker over his face before his face turned back into the carefully neutral expression he had worn before.

But before Clint could congratulate himself on his progress in the mission 'Keep Hot Guy company and maybe even cheer him up a little' the man opposite of him just jerked his chin towards something that was slightly left of Clint and suddenly he had a very, very bad feeling.  
"Kate. Don't tell me you stand behind me. Please." He groaned without actually turning around, staring very pointedly at a stain on the table. "The only thing that might be worse than talking to someone behind me when there is nobody behind me is that there is Kate behind me. She’s kind of a nightmare." Clint explained to Hot Guy jokingly. The man opposite of him seemed to be tempted to say something but before he could open his mouth Kate interfered, her voice sounding smug: 

"You shouldn't be allowed out in public without supervision, Hawkeye." 

"You shouldn't be allowed out in public period, Hawkeye." Clint grumped, finally turning around to his friend to glare at her. With just a little bit of luck the bickering would distract her from Clint embarrassing himself in front of Hot Guy enough to not bring it up before they were out of earshot later.

Eh, who was he kidding, Clint decided. The luckiest he would get today was getting hit by a truck and being in a coma for long enough for Kate to find something else to tease him about. And this was the best-case scenario.   
Clint’s next decision was to buy of those cheesy quote books as soon as possible, just to make sure his optimism would become less... pessimistic. And also, because Natasha hated them and spreading cheesy quotes was balancing on the line between revenge for the romcoms and being generally ridiculous perfectly.  
Clint got up and leaned on his crutches in what he hoped looked like a relaxed stance and smiled at Hot Guy, "Well, as you might have figured out, my annoying as fuck ride is here, so… I see you? Or not really, I guess, I mean I am here fairly often so maybe but- well, what I mean is bye." 

The man on the opposite side of the table gave him the hint of a nod and made a small waving gesture with his right hand. It wasn't much, but compared to what Clint had gotten out of him before - which was basically nothing - this was a whole part of a conversation! Clint was just delighted with the reaction and his smile turned into straight up beaming, "Would you look at this! I'm not talking to myself anymore!" 

"You act as if he had just proposed to you, give the guy a break." Because of course Kate had to burst his temporary little bubble of shameless optimism, "Sorry if he bothered you, Clint sometimes ignores that not everybody wants to talk to over caffeinated morons."   
Clint made a face at her and combined it with an overly annoyed noise for good measure in hope that Kate would take it as flipping her off. Another problem with walking on crutches, he never had a free hand when he really needed it! 

With a last smile towards Hot Guy he followed Kate out of the automatic door, turning around a last time to mouth 'She'll never let me live this down' across the room and this time Clint was one hundred percent sure that he hadn't imagined the amused smile that tugged at the corner of the other man’s mouth.

At least Kate had the mercy to wait until they were sitting in the car - way out of earshot from Hot Guy - until she started to grin at Clint out of the corner of her eye.   
"Care to tell me what that was all about?" She more demanded an answer than really asking. It had been a while - okay, about a month and a half, but Clint saw it as a success - since she had caught him doing something really stupid and potentially embarrassing and she seemed to be rather satisfied with herself.   
Great. 

"How much have you heard?" 

"I've seen you get up and harass the guy and I thought that it would be fun. I wasn't disappointed." Clint groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, because of course it got worse. 

"He looked familiar and sad and alone. Thought I would talk to him because I was bored and alone and I'm told that I'm involuntarily funny." Regrettably it was true, people laughed about him when he was serious than when he joked. 

"And conveniently he was a good-looking guy." Kate huffed in her 'you're bullshitting me and I know it' voice, "Hate to tell you, but you're a sucker for hot guys. Even I thought he looked good and he's like a hundred years older than me."   
Oh, the age thing again. Clint grinned, he was only five years older than Kate, but it always came up whenever they were bickering and Kate would always call him old and Clint would always call her a baby. 

"Just because you're like 12 doesn't mean he's old. He was around my age! And why are we still talking about him? We'll never see him again." 

Kate only scoffed, shaking her head like what Clint had just said was ridiculous before asking him what Bruce had said and a bad feeling that the worst of this discussion was still to come.

Probably when Kate had backup from Natasha. 

Clint sighted, he really needed friends that showed their love in a normal way.


	4. The One With References To Punk Rock And Some Quiet Quality Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I did it! And it took me only a little under a month! I basicially wrote all of this two days ago (I abandoned basicially the whole outline becuase I had no Motivation to write it and then it kinda just happened?) and edited today. I hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing!
> 
> And thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! Comments are love and are greatly appreciated :)

As it turned out, Clint had nothing to be worry about; even though Kate and Natasha disappeared suspiciously long to 'get coffee' - even more suspicious eyebrow wiggling from Kate towards Nat - not even a minute after they had come back from the hospital. Luckily, when they came back neither of them said anything about it.   
Six weeks later they had still stayed suspiciously quiet about the ’Hospital Incident’ and sometimes when Clint laid awake in his bed, he wasn't quite sure whether they planned to do something truly horrible to him, or just showed mercy for once. 

 

When the What's App message from Steve came, Clint had been back at work for a few days, more than just excited to be able to see the kids again after day on end just hanging around his apartment. Currently he was helping Wanda with her math homework as Peter and MJ watched educational videos about bees on his Netflix app because they had an important school project on bees, they had explained hastily. Of course, they didn't watch bee-videos. First of all, Clint wasn't stupid. He knew that children their age - whatever their exact age was - would not pass up the opportunity of a basically free class. And possibly because Adventure Time started popping up on his 'Continue Watching'- list since he went back to work. 

"Well, you almost got it..." Clint explained patiently, signing as he spoke. This was something they all did, it made it easier for the kids to understand him and each other due to different percentages of hearing loss and additionally trained their signing as most of the children’s families didn’t know sign language. "see, your mistake was that you mixed up the plus and the multiplication sign. Does it make more sense now?"   
Wanda nodded thoughtfully and bit her lip in concentration as she went to work again, this time adding the numbers instead of multiplying them and pushing the paper back to Clint a little to silently ask him whether it was correct this time and he nodded, smiling.   
"Very good! Want to try the next one on your own?" Wanda nodded again, this time a little more enthusiastic and concentrated on the book again. She was the only mute kid, and even the regards of signing she was rather quiet. Her brother on the other hand never shut up. Pietro wasn’t in Clint’s class, but it was hard not to notice his excited chattering in the breaktimes.

A tap on his shoulder let Clint look up from Wanda's copybook and he was greeted with Peter holding Clint's mobile phone out to him, "A Steve texted?" He said, his eyes wide, "Maybe it's something important!"   
Clint was pretty sure that it was in no way important, but thanked Peter anyways and took his phone to find out what Steve wanted.

Steve, 9:26am: You want to watch the football match at 8 today? I'll provide pizza and beer.

How was this even a question? Clint could literally not reject this offer. Steve knew exactly how to get him - if Clint was honest with himself he had to admit that it wasn't really complicated - if it involved pizza he was pretty much in, he was a man of simple taste.

The two of them had done fairly much together since they met again at the hospital, it had started with Steve giving Clint a ride to his check-up when Kate and Natasha were both otherwise occupied and bullied him into asking Steve, and a wrong number late night text from Steve going to Sam - well, Clint accidentally - about how Bucky seemed to do worse instead of doing better every day which had turned into a pretty emotional exchange of text messages and just like this they had become something between friends and emotional support buddies. 

Clint, 9:31am: sure @my house agn? 

He had only been to Steve's apartment twice before since his friend had moved in with him and Bucky was very picky with who was allowed in their apartment. Steve didn't protest. He said that Bucky needed his space and he wasn't comfortable around people he didn't know well, and much less comfortable with people he didn't know invading his living space which did make sense to Clint, and who was he to press the issue.  
The answer came quick: 

Steve, 9:32am: Nah, at mine. 7?

Clint raised his eyebrows at the screen in surprise but didn't ask, instead he just texted a thumbs up emoji back and wrote 'Steve 7' on his hand because if he didn’t, he would probably totally forget Steve and sleep in on his couch. Of course, this situation was strictly hypothetical. This had never happened before because Clint was a well organised and responsible adult.   
After he was done he gave Peter the phone back to continue with their totally real research and looked over the three questions Wanda had solved while he had been distracted, nodding approvingly and his grin growing as all the answers were correct.

-

Regardless of the reminder on his hand Clint arrived at Steve's apartment building ten minutes late, which was okay because Steve had sent Clint a text that he was stuck in traffic and would be late either, but frustrating nevertheless. If even his oldest trick didn't work anymore Clint would have to start to set alarms on his phone that would probably go by unnoticed if he didn't set the most obnoxious noise imaginable as ringtone and the walls of his apartment were thin. Nobody wanted that. 

Steve had said that Bucky was there and would text him to ask his friend to let Clint inside. Which wasn't too reassuring considering what Steve had said about the man not being comfortable with people in his space. There seemed to be a very real chance that Bucky would leave him into the house but that wouldn't mean he would leave him into the apartment and Clint was sick of hanging out on staircases and almost getting kicked out by neighbours who didn't believe him that he was waiting for a friend. The thought that Steve had definitely asked his friend before he had invited Clint over was only partially reassuring. 

It turned out that Clint's worries were uncalled for, not only the building door opened with a quiet buzzing noise after he had pressed the doorbell - the little sign next to it still only said ’Rogers' even with Steve wanting to change it for forever now - but also the apartment door was opened slowly, just a few seconds after Clint had knocked. It seemed like Bucky had waited at the apartment door to open it up.

Even though he was let in, fate seemed to find malicious joy in torturing him - in the doorway, with a fairly intimidating expression, stood the guy from the hospital. It took Clint the better part of a minute to fully realise it now that his hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and there was a shiny prosthetic attached to his left shoulder and peeking out under the dark red T-shirt, but it was definitely him, staring at Clint blankly. Right, maybe he should say something, Clint reminded himself after almost a minute of slilence between them.

"Hi, uh, Bucky, I suppose? I'm Clint, Steve invited me over to see the match." All of this sounded more like a question then a statement, even to Clint's ears, but it seemed to be good enough for Bucky. He stepped aside to let Clint in the apartment after giving him another short once-over with a tiny nod that seemed to be more directed at himself than Clint. 

"The living room is down the hall on the left." Bucky said, his voice quiet. "I don't like having people walk behind me." He added when Clint didn't move. Instead he was investigating the old-fashioned pattern on the wall behind Bucky's head. Bucky made a gesture to make Clint move already and without further prompting Clint made his way to the living room, the other man following in a careful distance and Clint started to wonder whether he remembered him at all. Bucky hadn't made any efforts to bring their little talk, or rather Clint's little monologue, up and when he had opened the door there had be no sign of surprise in Bucky's face. Clint wasn't sure whether Bucky just had an astonishing capability to control his expression or whether he had really just forgotten Clint. Even without knowing Bucky's reasoning, he sure was glad Bucky didn't bring it up.

The living room was relatively small. A big and comfortable looking, at least third hand, couch made out of faded red leather as well as a similar but more used looking armchair dominated the room. On either side of the couch were small beside tables, one of them was empty except of a PlayStation controller and the other one was overflowing with a sketchpad, different pencils, a little box labelled 'coal' in a neat handwriting and other drawing materials Clint couldn't name. It was easy to guess where Steve sat usually. On the wall opposite of the couch there was a relatively big flat screen with an X-Box and a PlayStation on a slim sideboard beneath it and movies as well as games were stacked neatly on the ground and against the wall next to it.

Clint didn't really know what to do once he had scanned the room so he sat down on the couch - the side with the empty table - and checked whether Bucky had followed him in or retreated to his own room. Apparently, Bucky himself wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to keep an eye on Clint or hide away because he was turned towards the living room but he already had his right hand on the door handle of the door that seemed to lead to his room. It was only now that Clint noticed the Ramones poster on the outside of the door Bucky was currently standing at. When he had walked past it he had been too focused on his own thoughts, but now he whistled through his teeth grinned broadly. 

"You have a good taste in music." Clint attempted conversation, hoping this time he wouldn't end up talking to himself. Fortuna seemed to have a good day because Bucky raised his eyebrows, looked at Clint, then the poster and back to Clint. 

"I prefer the Pistols." He answered hesitantly and Clint nodded, he saw the appeal in the generally more rough and dirty style of the other band, still, he had grown up with the Ramones and they held a special place in his heart. "But Steve bought it for me when I moved in and when I put it up, he wouldn't wipe this stupid smile off his stupid face for days and the Ramones are pretty good..." He shrugged as if he was neither sure how to finish this sentence nor why he talked to Clint at all, it was just a tiny gesture that would have been easy to miss if Clint wouldn't have watched him closely.

"Wanna listen to some good music before Steve comes home?" Clint grinned, "I've even got the Pistols." He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a grin and waved it at Bucky. Bucky eyed his bedroom door with an unreadable expression and Clint gave it another try, "Come on, you're No Fun!" (1) Bucky looked back at Clint, his expression looked pained and a tiny bit impressed. Then he turned around fully and disappeared into his bedroom.

Clint sighted. It had been worth a try and Bucky had said more than... well, nothing, so Clint couldn't really be disappointed, not much anyway.  
It took him only a minute to figure out that he didn't have to be disappointed at all as suddenly a stack of records was shoved between Clint's face and his phone suddenly, making him jump and look up at Bucky with big eyes. 

Bucky looked back expectantly, gesturing towards Clint with the records to make clear that he was supposed to take them. With his prosthetic arm he cradled a dark red record player against his chest. On some places the see-through top part peeked out through the load of stickers on it. Slowly Clint took the records off the other man, his train of thought about how exactly Bucky had managed to be so damn stealthy being interrupted by his amazement that someone their age in this time still had a record player and actually used it instead of just having it sitting around to catch dust. The records were all punk bands from the 70s and 80, Sex Pistols, Ramones, Band Religion, Social Distortion and Misfits Clint knew, but Bucky's collection held far more bands then those. 

"Fucking marry me, man..." Clint breathed, impressed by the amount of records that had just causally been dropped in his lap. When he finished flipping through them and looked up again, the Misfits album in his right hand and Never Mind The Bollocks Here's The Sex Pistols in his left hand - the second one more because Bucky seemed to love them than Clint really wanting to listen to them at the moment - Bucky had set the record player up on the ground next to the armchair and was sitting in front of it, his back leaned against the side of the armchair as he watched Clint attentively. 

Clint held both records up questioningly and Bucky frowned before getting up and taking the Misfits record from him. As Bucky was putting on the record, handling it like other people would handle expensive china, Clint moved the controller to the side and put the rest of Bucky’s records on it.

 

And that was how Steve found them about half an hour later, the volume of the record player cranked up way louder than acceptable in an apartment building and both men looking content doing their own thing. Bucky had curled up in his usual spot on the armchair, he was reading The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy again despite having read the series front to back about a thousand times and Clint sat cross legged on the couch with his phone in one hand, bobbing his head to the music absently. They hadn't talked since Bucky had put on the record, just sat together in silence and somehow Clint had the feeling that Bucky liked him in his own, withdrawn ways.

When Steve drove him home after the match and a detailed discussion of the game that involved more peanut-throwing than strictly necessary neither of them mentioned Bucky despite Clint being incredibly curious why Bucky was okay with him in their apartment suddenly and Steve astonished by how relaxed Bucky had been with Clint around.   
He had figured they would still get along after he had confirmed to his friend that the Clint he told him about sometimes was Highschool Clint and Bucky had been quick to tell Steve that he was okay with Clint in their apartment, but Steve would have never expected finding the two of them in the same room, much less with Bucky’s music playing loudly and Clint actually enjoying it! 

 

(1) No Fun is a song by the Sex Pistols and I think I am being smart


End file.
